beneath the thundering sky
by creatoriginsane
Summary: The thundering of her heart against his chest silences the storm.


**beneath the thundering sky**

A/N: So I recently watched and read (in that order) this series and had the urge to explore this pairing, since neither the anime nor the manga did.

And, wow, there's a storm today. How apt.

Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks!

* * *

 _The thundering of her heart against his chest silences the storm._

* * *

Koushiro knows there's a storm. He can smell it. He can taste it. In a hut tucked away in a deep forest, his senses are more attuned than ever before.

But he cannot see.

And blindness for a shinobi was equal to a death sentence.

Sure, they've been trained to be able to hold their own in the dark, to be able to kill silently and make a quick escape under the cover of darkness, but it's another thing entirely when one is suddenly condemned to a lifetime without sight.

Koushiro is one of the strongest shinobi of the Iga, but without his eyes, he is nothing.

* * *

"Koushiro-dono."

The words of an absent goddess had welcomed him into his afterlife.

"Please."

He cannot move. Or perhaps he just cannot see his body moving through the darkness. Is he standing? Is he sitting? Is he laid down? He opens his hands, clenches them into fists, repeats until he's sure that he still has a body, that he's somehow still alive.

"Please, Koushiro-dono."

The absent goddess keeps talking, her voice trapped between a whisper and a whimper.

And suddenly her voice sounds familiar.

He knows this voice.

He knows who she is.

"Akeginu." Her name comes from his stiff lips.

He can feel his tongue against his mouth, feel the dryness of his lips, taste the bitterness and the copper in his mouth. The next thing he feels is a hand wrapping itself around his own, perhaps it's hers, and something warm and smooth on his lower lip.

"Please drink."

Liquid pours into his parched mouth, tasting bitter and metallic. It is medicine. He drinks it with difficulty, but he's already familiar with this medicine. He's had this before, but somehow, without his sight, the foul taste is even fouler.

He almost chokes.

* * *

"Akeginu."

She hears him mumble her name and it pains her to see him so vulnerable, so uncertain of everything around him.

He used to be so calm, no matter how rash or how impulsive he seemed to act. Every action is calculated, done with a sure victory in mind, whether it be decapitating his enemies from afar or mangling their enemies' faces in close-range. But now he's so unsure of the world, every action is doubted thrice over, the bitter medicine spills before it enters his mouth, even each word that he says after is laced with the feeling of doubt.

And all she could do was hold his hand through it all.

"I cannot see." He says, his tone as bitter as the medicine she gave him.

He scowls, grits his teeth, hisses like an angered cobra.

She chokes on her own breath. She doesn't know what to say.

"Akeginu." He repeats, struggling even to get a proper hold of her hand.

She imagines how his eyes would look; deep and dark, shining with bitter tears, or perhaps glistening like polished obsidian, sharp and dangerous.

"Koushiro…" She drops the honorific, reaches for him slowly, carefully.

He shoots upright, trembles in the darkness around him, clutches at his own chest. She can see him struggling; can see him so afraid and so vulnerable, feeling too many emotions at once.

And all she can do is to hold him, cradle him and let him fall apart.

"I can't–" He chokes on his own words. "Akeginu."

He says her name as if it was his lifeline.

"I am here." She whispers. "I am here."

She imagines him crying, much like how he cried several years before, wiping his tears quickly, roughly. Shinobi aren't allowed to feel such emotions in the midst of battle.

"Koushiro." She holds him tight against her, hears his ragged breathing against her neck.

She holds him, wraps her arms around him and strokes the back of his head.

"I am here."

And she repeats it, repeats until it drowns out all other sounds, repeats until it's the only thing he ever hears, repeats until his trembling stops and his breathing becomes even.

"Akeginu." He lets his hand fall from hers, lets his hand clutch her wrist and pull her closer. He doesn't know where her face is, doesn't know where her mouth is–

She breathes out, shaky and agitated.

He breathes in, leans in close, takes in the scent of her, the sound of her heart hammering in her chest.

Has her heart always been this loud?

"I…"

Or perhaps it is his own heart, thrumming so wildly that even he can hear it.

"You are here." He says for her, hand tentatively reaching for her face.

And she is suddenly shy, but doesn't pull away.

His hand meets empty air at first, and he retracts it, ashamed of his own actions. But she stops him, holds his wrist and guides his calloused palm to her cheek. His thumb strokes her skin, relishing in the soft, warm feeling.

She breathes shallowly.

It's almost like a sob.

He can feel her pulse under her skin.

* * *

The thunder rumbles above him like a tiger growling in its den, like a beast shaken awake by the coming of rain. They're hidden deep within the forest, inside a hut that should be able to withstand the howling winds, and yet he feels cold.

Someone's hands come over his own and stops him from trembling.

"Please eat."

It is Akeginu. _Always_ Akeginu. Akeginu with her red lips and dark hair, her fair skin and warm hands. Akeginu with hands that grasp his tightly. Akeginu with her voice echoing through the darkness. Akeginu, his absent goddess whose presence permeates through the dark.

He reaches out then. Fingers twitching until his hand meets her cheek, or rather the bridge of her nose. It is a careful movement, almost hesitant. His palm comes to press against her cheek.

Or is it that her warm cheek comes to press against his cold palm?

Akeginu flushes, slightly embarrassed at the intimate gesture, and wonders how he would react if he was able to see her.

"Here." She whispers, voice meek and small, as she guides his hand to the bowl of food between them.

"Please eat, Koushiro." His hands lift the bowl slowly and he begins eating, swallowing the porridge gingerly.

And when he finishes, he hesitates to set the bowl down. He lowers it carefully, but almost drops it when he felt a hand, her hand, on his cheek.

"There's some left." She whispers, plucks the grains from the corner of his mouth.

She feels him shiver under her touch.

* * *

Hours later in the dead of night, Akeginu wakes to the sound of thunder overhead. She hears it coming from the east, hears the steady downpour growing louder and louder. A flash of lightning. Another rumble of thunder. She's never been one to be afraid of such things, but it's cold. It's cold and it's dark and…

"Koushiro-dono…"

He's nowhere in sight.

So she dares to venture outside, not minding the heavy rain pelting against her skin, not minding the way her clothes stick to her skin, not minding the mud clinging to her feet. Where could he have gone? Where could he be? Why did he leave? Where is he? Where is…

She's panicked now. She's breathing heavily. But she shouldn't be. She should be calm, in control. She's a shinobi, and shinobi must never be panicked no matter what.

But her heart is beating so fast and so loud, she could almost hear it in her ears, feel it in her fingers. It's like the thrill of her first kill. The blood rushes through her body, telling her to hurry, hurry, hurry, but she can't. She has to be in control. She has to be calm.

Be calm.

Be in control.

And that's when she sees him sitting on a low rock by the river. His hands are fisted at his sides. He's shaking, but not from the cold. He's shaking as if he's trying to regain control over something, as if he's trying to remain still against the storm.

"Koushiro…"

He's hurting himself.

She dares to approach him, slow and careful, wanting to reach out to him, to embrace him like she has all this time.

"Who's there?"

It happens fast, quick as a bolt of lightning.

He attacks her, grabs her by the throat and forces her to the ground.

"It's me!" She screams.

And he pulls back just as quick, hands shaking, and stumbles forward. He tries to regain his footing, tries to stand back up. But he slips and tumble forward, falls into the water face-first.

And maybe it is only right.

Maybe it is only right that he drowns himself in such shallow waters.

He's no use as a shinobi anymore.

"Koushiro…"

And it is her again, Akeginu, his goddess in the void. She pulls him up by his shoulders, quick to cradle him in her arms, hold him fast against her, try to calm him down, try to soothe the storm in his soul, try to shield him from the rain.

He holds on to her, holds on to her so tightly, so selfishly. He buries himself into her chest, lets his mouth press against her clothes as he screams. He shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't cry like this. He shouldn't be so weak and helpless in front of her. He shouldn't be the one being cradled like this.

He made her a promise before, when he was still the young trainee and when she was still just one of the many, many servants of the Iga.

" _I'm going to become the strongest shinobi of the Iga."_

She smiled at him then, and made a promise of her own as well.

" _I'll be there to make sure that you do."_

But now?

They're both older. They've both been through horrible things. They've killed. They've stolen. They've burned down houses. All for the glory of the Iga.

Now he's blind and she's tending to him.

Things are different now.

"I'm sorry, Akeginu." He mutters, suddenly cold and distant.

He tries to pry himself away from her, but her hold on him tightens.

"Don't you dare." She replies, voice shaking.

Is she crying?

"Don't. Please." She sobs. "Please don't apologize. I…"

 _No, Akeginu!_

"I'm…"

She stops talking when his hand comes to cradle her face, somehow suddenly sure of where she is. He brushes his thumb against the skin under her eye as if wiping away a tear.

 _Please don't cry, Akeginu._

The words fall silent in his mouth.

He embracer her then. The storm resounds around them, and he holds her close, presses his face into her hair.

The rain begins to pour, cold and sharp on their skin.

But it is warm, the feeling of her held tight against him.

Her heart hammers against his chest.

And for the moment, the world around them is silenced.

* * *

A/N: I should actually be writing something else today, but I couldn't help it. I'm self-destructive that way. Anyway, feedback is always appreciated, thanks for reading!


End file.
